


His Name is a Song Stuck in Your Head since You First Drew Breath

by smaragdbird



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Getting Back Together, Hickey is a jealous bitch and you can't convince me otherwise, I know what I'm talking about, I spent years in the hannibal fandom, Introspection, M/M, Pretty sure they're back together by episode 7, Realisation of feelings, who said murder and cannibalism can't be romantic?, you know from a certain point of view
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 12:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15663432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/pseuds/smaragdbird
Summary: Hickey realises that he's in love with Billy only after Billy has broken up with him.It's even more annoying to realise that Billy might have already found someone else.





	His Name is a Song Stuck in Your Head since You First Drew Breath

**Author's Note:**

> "There is great love between him and Gibson. There’s a love story, a love story that’s actually happened before we meet them. Then what we actually witness is the end of that relationship, but not the end of that love story." Adam Nagaitis

By the time the ice didn’t thaw during the summer months, he had already been on this ship six months longer than he had ever intended to. “A year’s worth of doing nothing”, the fresh-faced boy in the pub had boasted, followed by a description of the pacific islands as if he had been there before.

So far, the only islands he had seen had been worse than the one he had wanted to leave behind. That and more ice than he had ever seen in his life or ever wanted to see again.

Weeks had passed since Sir John’s funeral and the ice showed no signs of breaking up or receding. He had picked up enough naval knowledge to know that their time was running out. He should have been on Hawaii by now, enjoying life on a warm and sunny island far away from anyone who knew him. Instead he was stuck on a ship in the Arctic with little opportunities and less distractions. At least his little encounter with Irving in Crozier’s cabin had gotten him off his back – singing, watercolours – he scoffed when he remembered Irving’s attempts to illuminate the good Christian path for him. He’d get back at him for that sooner or later.

Billy wasn’t talking to him but that was expected if a little frustrating. If Billy had reported his petty act of revenge then he hadn’t felt the consequences yet. He still felt justified about doing it but he was starting to consider that it might have been a short-sighted action. Only now that Billy was avoiding him he realised how much time they had spent together in the past year.

He didn’t care. There were others on the ship. Desperate times produced desperate men. Besides he knew that Billy wasn’t the only sodomite on the ship apart from himself. Billy had had a similar arrangement to theirs with Harry Peglar back when they had both served on the Wanderer. 

So far Peglar had proven resistant to his advances though. He was friendly, yes, but he didn’t rise to his teasing and flat out ignored it when he tried to flirt with him. Perhaps Billy had warned him. Or, and the thought only occurred to him now, maybe Billy had gone back to his old arrangement with him. Even a man as scared to be exposed and lashed for who he was like Billy had needs.

The thought bothered him for some reason. Probably because he found it unfair that Billy, who had been the one to break off their arrangement, had already found a new one.

It didn’t matter though. Men in a situation like theirs weren’t hard to convince to have a little fun. Hartnell and Armitage came to mind. Not much to look at and probably not as keen to submit as Billy but good enough given the situation. He did have a preference for tall men though. Something about getting someone physically larger than him to submit to him was very appealing.

Maybe he should go for Tozer instead. It’d be a challenge to get someone so used to commanding to take his orders instead. But Tozer had brown eyes which were fine…but he did prefer blue eyes, pale as the morning sky if he had the choice.

Irving had eyes like that. And he was an officer. And so scared of sinning that he was almost screaming for seduction. He could picture it easily enough, the fear, the trembling, the fall from the great heights of his religious idols to the depths of sin. For Irving this wouldn’t be a casual arrangement, he’d be in it with heart and soul. He’d own Irving.

Discreetly he slipped a hand inside his pants. He could easily see it in his mind, how Irving would tremble under his touch like a deer caught in a trap. There was no wedding ring on his finger so most likely Irving had never felt the touch of a woman either. He’d be inexperienced and fumbling, searching for guidance in the matter of flesh and sin. He imagined sliding his hand into Irving’s hair and kissed him, coaxing his lips apart with an insistent tongue. Except that in his mind Irving’s fine brown hair turned into Billy’s unruly red curls. And instead of inexperience and hesitation his brain unearthed the memories of the way Billy kissed, so sure of himself and of what he wanted.

As he curled his hand around his cock in his fantasy, Irving became taller, his cheekbones sharper and his hands larger.

Irving was afraid of his own nature because of his religion, his devotion to an unachievable goal. If Billy had ever struggled with such thoughts then he had found his peace before they had met. Billy had only ever submitted to him out of his own free will, because he found it pleasurable.

The closer he got to his climax the less he fought against imagining himself with Billy instead of Irving or Tozer or Peglar. The memories of Billy were much more appealing than any fantasy involving another man. And it was not just his body or the confidence that lay in the knowledge and acceptance of his nature. What brought him over the edge was the memory of the way Billy smiled after sex. He’d look down, long lashes resting against his cheeks that would be reddened with a blush, a smile resting in the corners of his lips. He could see it in his mind as if Billy was right in front of him now.

For a moment he lay there, spent, panting quietly and cursed himself for what had happened. The idea had been to take his mind off Billy and not to indulge in his memories of him. Especially not memories that were not directly related to sex. 

He already knew that he liked Billy but it was a sobering thought to realise that he did not want a man who was not Billy. Frustrating too since not only had Billy broken things off between them and thrown him to the wolves to save his own skin but he had also already replaced him with someone else.

No one had ever held his thoughts hostage like this before. He had never cared if the men he had sex with spent their time with someone else as well. Jealousy was a foreign emotion to him. He understood envy but this, this was entirely unasked for.

/

He tried his best to ignore it but found that his eyes followed Billy more often than not. This strange, uneasy feeling would return to his stomach whenever he saw Billy with someone else, be it Jopson or Armitage but especially when it was Peglar.

Billy had worked as a sailor on the Wanderer not as a steward so it was no surprise that he would be close to Peglar. In fact, both of them also had an easy rapport with Hodgson, who had been a Lieutenant there. 

But he knew that it was not just ordinary friendship. Every time he saw them talk, every time Peglar was anywhere near Billy he felt the urge to stab him. 

Part of him wanted to stab Billy, too, for making him feel this way, and yet another part of him balked at the very idea of hurting Billy, which was absurd. If anything, Billy was hurting him. He should be allowed to defend himself against that. 

They had barely spoken aside from the most unavoidable pieces of dialogue. Polite, shallow words that could’ve come from any man on this ship. It bothered him that Billy could so easily pretend that they were nothing but mere acquaintances when he could barely think of anyone but Billy.

He tried his best to find distractions, which was not easy since the beast was still seen circling the ships and there were fewer opportunities to leave than there had been during the winter. It hadn’t attacked the ships yet but it was only a matter of time.

The endless daylight of the summer months was not going to last forever and fear was clinging to the men on board like a shroud. He had heard whispers amongst them that the bear was not an ordinary bear, that it was a demon or maybe a beast send by the natives to drive them off. Some even said that it was the ghost of the Esqui man that had been shot, coming back to take revenge.

He was not scared. There were worse things than a feral bear out for blood, but he couldn’t help but wish that the thing would eat Peglar if it had to eat them at all. As a steward Billy would not be expected to stand watch.

If he could not get rid of Billy occupying his mind, then at least he could prove him wrong. Captain Crozier had noticed him, no matter what Billy said, and he knew he could make it so that it would happen again.

Ideally he would be the one to kill the bear and be lauded as a hero for it, basking in the admiration of the men, of his station and above him alike. But he knew how unrealistic that was. Perhaps though there was a better way, an easier way to achieve his goals. The girl clearly knew something about the creature, she had to have some kind of connection to it, maybe she even controlled it.

With so few opportunities to leave the ship and fear running so rampant among the men, he knew he wasn’t the only one who was itching for a fight. Getting one of the Marines would be the most useful but they were all annoyingly loyal to Tozer and Tozer wasn’t a man who’d share his glory.

No, he would have to look amongst the other men for allies in this venture. For a moment he entertained the thought of luring Peglar away from the ship with the promise of glory only to throw him to the bear. Even if Billy still ignored him, they’d at least be in the same situation.

He shook his head. This was meant to be about him, not about Billy. Once he had Crozier’s respect, he’d make Billy regret ever breaking up their arrangement and even more that he had exchanged him for Peglar so quickly.

/

He felt something very close to triumph when he heard the news that Peglar had been among the many who wanted to berth on the Erebus while Billy had decided to stay on the Terror. That had to mean something, he was sure of it. Perhaps Billy was not as indifferent to him as he had pretended to be these past months. Maybe even the tobacco was from him, even though it could just as likely be from Armitage for not ratting him out. 

His plan to prove Billy wrong by winning Crozier’s respect had failed spectacularly and he had paid the price for, unjustly so. It was time for a new plan. Perhaps he could get retribution from Crozier and Irving for how they had wronged him and get Billy back at the same time. 

As a steward Billy had access to the gun room and the officer’s quarters, especially with the other steward having left for Erebus. And with so few men aboard it would be harder for Billy to avoid him completely as he had done before. Having Billy back on his side would be advantageous for more than just the obvious reasons.

He could lead with that, lure Billy back into his confidence, his trust, and then go from there. Most men reacted well to either flattery or bribery. He knew Billy too well and Billy knew him too well for flattery to work. Compliments would only arouse his suspicion. But bribery, bribery could work. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was doing anything else with the ring. And out here, stranded in the Arctic ice, it was nothing more than a shiny, worthless trinket.

Slipping the ring on Billy’s finger, even if it was the wrong one, while he kept his eyes closed, was perhaps a little too obvious. Billy’s reaction however was exactly as he had hoped. He could see his success in the smile gracing Billy’s face, in the lightness of his tone. That Billy had allowed the gesture in the first place, had closed his eyes when asked for it, had already confirmed his guess that Billy still cared about him.

When Billy smiled at him though, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, happily, genuinely. It felt strange to smile like this without having to hide something. Just that he had made Billy smile was enough to let the feeling in his chest bloom like a flower under the sun. 

He caught himself, smile dropping from his face as he brushed past Billy and reminded him that the ring was a bribe, not a token of his affection. Still, when he thought about the moment later, after the fight with the bear, the memory was enough to bring the strange warmth back to his chest.

/

Something was happening and he was itching to know what it was. Crozier’s illness, if it was an illness, had to have something to do with it but the only people who knew about it were MacDonald, Little and Jopson, all of which kept their confidence. Jopson especially proved to be a better guard dog of Crozier’s privacy than the actual dog.

At least Billy was talking to him more than two words at a time. With Crozier out of the picture, Little had taken command, so it was usually Irving who went to report on Erebus. He wasn’t quite ready yet to give up hope that the creature would return and eat him on one of those trips or that he would drop dead like Digby had.

With so few men remaining on Terror, both he and Billy had much more to do than usual but whenever Irving was away he would find the time to be at Billy’s side. Ostensibly under the pretext of getting whatever gossip Billy had picked up from the gunroom but he’d stay and talk with him for far longer than that. It was a little like it had been before they had broken up except for the lack of sex.

Just to be near Billy again felt intoxicating in a way he had never experienced before. It was unsettling that one man could have such hold over him but right now he wished nothing more than to reach out and touch Billy. Even as something as small as taking his hand or leaning against him when they sat side by side. Of course he wanted more but as much as he wanted to sleep with Billy again, he knew better than to push his luck so soon, especially with Irving around. He was the root of the problem, the only one who knew about him and Billy. Unfortunately his death was not something easy to arrange these days without arousing suspicion. It was pure bad luck that the bear hadn’t gotten him.

Yet maybe that could change. If they were counting the luggage that meant they were preparing to abandon ship. Anything could happen on the way. It also surely meant a return to England instead of the Sandwich Islands which was frustrating to no end. However he liked the identity of Cornelius Hickey and there’d be other ships he could join. 

Billy certainly wasn’t going to stay on land. Last winter he had often talked about going back to being a sailor instead of a steward, even though from what he had seen the duties of a steward seemed to be much easier than those of a sailor.

Sometimes Billy puzzled him. He had sailed to China and Africa and yet he had always decided to come back to England for what, a father and a sister? To him it was just baffling that anyone who could escape England would chose to return to it.

Around him the Carnival was in full swing with the men taking full opportunity of the large quantities of food and especially alcohol being provided. His own masquerade amounted to donning a top hat but Billy was wearing one of the costumes from the trunk. 

He had hoped that with the alcohol and the general frivolity around them, Billy would be easier to convince to sneak away for a bit but so far Billy had carefully kept his distance. Despite Irving drinking enough that in an hour or so he wouldn’t remember his own name. 

At the start Peglar had been by Billy’s side and the sight of them talking and laughing had stirred the familiar urge to run Peglar through with his knife. And then Hodgson had joined in and had stayed even when Peglar had left. He couldn’t imagine what the two could be talking about for such a length of time when they had been stuck on the same ship for the past two and a half years. 

Then again it looked as if Hodgson had been quite indulgent with drink as well. He was also standing a little too close to Billy and when he touched his arm for a moment as they both laughed about some anecdote from China, he thought he had miscalculated when he assumed that Billy had replaced him with Peglar.

An arrangement with an officer would give Billy the desired security from both discovery and repercussions, especially since Hodgson was both senior to Irving and a favourite of Fitzjames. It was only when Hodson’s hand slipped from Billy’s arm that he felt like he could breathe again. 

Instead of going over and staking his claim on Billy like he felt the urge to, he turned around and decided to take a leak. He really needed to deal with Billy one way or another, this limbo state was too much of a distraction and if he had learned one thing then that distractions were dangerous.

/

Relief swept through him when he saw Billy amongst the crowd of men watching the burning Carnivale tents. Unfortunately Irving and Hodgson had survived, too. It seemed his bad luck was holding, though it filled him with satisfaction to see Billy push away from Hodgson and walk over to him.

“Cornelius.” The relief was palpable in Billy’s voice, but it was followed by a frown. “Are you injured?”

He looked down and only now noticed that his hands and his clothes were stained with MacDonald’s blood. “That’s not my blood. It must have happened when I cut the tent open.”

“That was you?” The admiring tone in Billy’s voice send shivers down his spine. He was so close to what he wanted he could almost taste it.

“I couldn’t let you die, could I?” He smiled and just like when he had given Billy the ring he found that it was a genuine smile.

When they were sent back to the ships, it didn’t take more than a look for him and Billy to separate from the others, going down into the cargo hold. No one paid them any attention, everyone too caught up in their own grief and Irving was still out on the ice trying to identify those who had died. 

Neither of them had thought to bring a lantern so they stumbled through the crates in the half-dark of what little twilight was coming through the cracks. He stopped first, turning around to face Billy and there was a moment of hesitation. He couldn't quite pin down what that sudden feeling of falling in his stomach stemmed from, but he had a feeling it had something to do with fear.

But fear was a choice so he ignored it as he reached out and rested his hand on Billy’s chest, imagining that he could feel his heart beat underneath it, just as fast as his own. 

“Cornelius”, Billy said and he wished that just once he could hear him say his real name. He had never thought he would miss it, until Billy kissed him as if he had been longing for it as long as he had.

Billy smelled like smoke and burned meat, and tasted like desire and desperation. Even their first time had not been this frantic, both of them tearing at each other, starved for affection. He knew that if anyone dared to interrupt them he would stab them. Hell, if Billy changed his mind about him after this he’d probably stab him too. 

As he opened Billy’s shirt to kiss his neck he found a string of rope around his throat with the ring dangling from it, the metal warm from the heat of Billy’s skin. That he hadn’t just kept the ring but that he was wearing right over his heart felt incredibly satisfying to see. 

For a moment he rested his hand over it and pulled Billy into another messy kiss, a stake of his claim that was far more fleetingly than the ring. Still it was nothing compared to the invisible marks Billy had left in him like hooks under his skin. He shouldn’t crave one man’s company so much, it was a distraction, it was dangerous. And yet when Billy gasped out his name, he knew he would never let him go again.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole Peglar/Gibson thing comes from the fact that Gibson is most likely the corpse who was found carrying Peglar's papers in real life (at least Glenn Stein's article offers a convincing argument).
> 
> Find me [ here](http://smaragdbird.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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